Cops and Wilbur

It appears there will be no Chapter 3 to the case I have entitled “Mystery on the Mountain”. Elaine made it an entire week without being called on by law enforcement.

To the best of my knowledge, “Mystery on the Mountain” has been solved. Turns out to be a simple teenage runaway case. Although, the runaway situation has been solved for the runaway, for me the repercussions are many and costly.

I can’t be sure but I think the thoughts and fantasies may be around for a long while. This past week Elaine asked, “Does anyone have a key for the front door?” This is most likely a question a flatlander, city-dwelling person has ever heard, but in the almost twenty years we have lived in this house, we have not locked our doors.

We have strangers (And boy were they strange) show up at the door, Elaine is now requiring doors to be locked. Personally, I like the old way, not carrying keys, but Capt. Elaine M. Sipes (Williams) of the Three AM Livermore Sheriff Department, has decreed the doors are now to be locked, except we can’t find the keys.

What started as a family night watching has been (or never been) entertainers with five-hundred-pound masks, was interrupted by a stranger at the door, and now I’m buying and installing new locks for all the doors.

It doesn’t stop there. It has been discussed and decreed that our vehicles be locked and the keys are brought inside. Ivy thinks this is a good idea. I’m not one for change, especially when it costs money.

If you ever had the desire to steal a spinning wheel, loom, knitting supplies, and stuff, a runaway just made your job harder. There is a new sheriff in town and this one insists on locks.

Last spring while Elaine was visiting relatives in Iowa, Ivy and I decided we need more chickens. I can’t say for sure why anyone would need more chickens but somehow, we convinced ourselves we needed more of them.

At the chicken store (not the Fill-A or Kentucky Fried kind) buying chickens became even more confusing. We had choices. White, German chicken, black south-east Asian chickens, blue egg-laying chickens, plus ducks and turkeys. To clear up any confusion as to what to buy, Ivy and I decided to get one (at least) of everything, even the turkeys.

Clearly, I remember the turkey discussion. Ivy suggested we get two turkeys. “The turkeys will be ready for Thanksgiving. We can get (my nephew) to butcher both turkeys. He can have one turkey; we will keep the other.” Sounded like a great plan.

I watched the turkey grow. They adapted well with the other fowl, eating grasshoppers and beetles. The turkeys were going to be good size by Thanksgiving. I noticed a couple of things throughout the summer.

Most concerning was the turkeys had names. Not names like “Drumstick” or “Stuffing”; but the turkeys were named “Orville” and “Wilbur”. I have to admit, I was curious and asked why turkeys would be named and why named, “Orville” and “Wilbur”. The answer had something to do with the “Wright Brothers”. I was either just too tired or too lazy to explain turkeys don’t fly.

As the turkeys got older (bigger) I noticed they seemed to greet Elaine, Ivy, the twins, and even me when we arrived at home.

Equally surprising, members of my family (not the twins or me) would stop to pet and sometimes even hug the turkeys. Yes, they hug the turkeys.

Yesterday, we talked about when we should get a turkey from the grocery store. Not even I can see myself eating “Wilbur”.

Please keep us in mind for your knitting and fiber needs. I like unlocking the storage containers.

Our crazy lives!

Monner